


Late

by VindictiveGrace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Steve makes it worse and then MUCH better, running late to work, work sucks, you fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VindictiveGrace/pseuds/VindictiveGrace
Summary: You’re running late to work. Again. Your boyfriend—none other than Steve Rogers—decides to have his way with you at the worst possible time. Again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I never bothered with you/reader fics in the past. Then I randomly landed on a particular writer's awesome reader fics, usually pairing the reader with Bucky, and I was hooked and inspired. So I wanted to try it out myself. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading. :)

“Shit, what time is it?” you yell out, mostly to yourself. You spot the clock hanging in the hallway. 7:20am. You’re running late to work. Again. And today is the worst day to be late. You have back to back meetings scheduled with clients all day long and the department’s quarterly presentation sandwiched in the middle. You’re the one presenting this time. You hate presenting in front of your colleagues, mostly because you hate them, hate the subject matter, and hate your job. But it pays the bills and leaves extra left over for fun (if you ever had the time for it), and you’re so used to where you work you can’t see yourself anywhere else. You’re so far in your professional rut you know nothing else. That’s why you stay.

That’s why this morning you practically trip over yourself running from room to room looking for your lunch bag, your water bottle, your phone (what time is it now?), your coat, your shoes, your laptop—where the hell is your laptop?! Your presentation is saved on that thing!—Oh there it is. You check your phone for the time again. You keep stumbling around. Forget about breakfast. There’s no time. You check the hallway clock for the time again. You become more frantic. 

The commotion you’re causing around your apartment brings out a familiar face from your shared bedroom. “Good morning, beautiful,” Steve calls out to you as you rush by. He’s wearing nothing more than a worn out pair of dark blue sweatpants sitting low on his hips, showing off his muscular super soldier body. His usual bedtime attire. His blond locks stick out in every direction, and his eyes trailing your path are still heavy with sleep. He’s been home the past few days after two back-to-back, week-long missions out of the country. Tony was left in charge. The team will live. Steve yawns and stretches his arms overhead, the sweats sliding a little lower, showing off more of that delicious V-line. 

That is, if you cared to notice. On any other day, you would eagerly wrap your arms around him and greet your boyfriend with a morning kiss. You can only bother to answer with a grunt and a crossed face today. There’s no time for mushiness—if you don’t run out the door in 30 minutes you will miss the last morning train to downtown, then you would have to wait an hour for the next train to come, and then you would really be late. Previous experience has let you known what kind of mess that causes for everyone, especially you. That’s not happening today. That cannot happen today. 

“Good morning, darling!” Steve calls out louder and more emphatically. It’s a miracle you and him are dating. Of all people, Steve Rogers—Captain America! Who would have thought he would have eyes for a girl like you? You were so introverted and usually kept to yourself. You kept a wall up against the rest of the world, doing all you could to stay out of the limelight. In your mind’s eye, your seemingly plain-Jane appearance mimicked your behavior in the world. You just happened to be put on the consulting team to work on the company’s newest long-term client, the Avenger Tower. Getting to go to the Avenger Tower nearly every day was amazing enough as it was. It was the coolest thing that had happened in the five years you had worked for the company. For once your job felt like it was worth it.

And then a few weeks later, your consulting team was formally introduced to the team. There he was, Captain America in the flesh and blood, cleaned up but still a bit flushed after returning from a mission moments ago, looking at you like he saw the sunlight for the first time after a months of a long dark winter. When the meet-and-greet dissolved into light chatter, mingling, finger foods, and refreshments, he inched his way through the crowd just to introduce himself to you. He held out his hand and flashed you that charming boyish smile you would later get to know so well for the next year and a half.

“Hi there. Captain America. Steve Rogers. What’s your name?”

Your constant presence at the Tower for the next few months meant you and him got to know each other more and more. The mutual pining was quickly evident. On the last day of your assignment with the Tower, during the massive after-hours office party, he came up to you with that boyish grin again. You were in the back corner, trying your hardest not to openly scowl. However, office parties had always annoyed you. The expectations. The forced conversations. The absurd requirement to let loose and yet still remain professional (Which one is it??). You couldn’t stand it at all. The introvert inside you was screaming for solitude. 

“You wanna get out of here? I’m not a big fan of these work parties. Too much pressure. It doesn’t seem like you like them that much either,” Steve joked. 

That night became your first date. A year and a half later here he was, living with you, watching your tear apart your shared apartment while trying to pull yourself together for your long stressful day ahead. 

“Babe?” There’s that worried lift in the captain’s voice again. He starts after you. He knows your bad habit of being late so damn well and the mess you put yourself through because of it. He hates watching you stress over your job, your commute, the clients, the boss’ expectations, your colleagues’ endless critiques, Stacey the office bully constantly targeting you, the long hours, and more. He was always encouraging you to find another job, something else that made you happier and saner. You never listen. You were always too far deep in your stress to hear anything else. Just like now. 

The super soldier finally catches up to you from behind. Steve grabs your shoulder and spins you around to take the good morning kiss he had been looking for since waking up. His lips meet yours quickly, and he swiftly snakes his other hand around your waist, keeping you from pulling away sooner than he wants.

The way he holds onto you. The way he keeps nipping into the kiss. Oh no…you know what was coming next. Steve always did this when he knew you were going crazy over being late. It was the only way he could reach you and get you to stop. But you don’t have time for this! Before you could protest, Steve walks you back, never breaking the kiss, until you’re up against the wall. He presses up against you, deepening the kiss, encouraging your mouth open, his tongue finding yours. You sighed into it and relent. He has you now.

His hands slowly slide down your sides, over the swell of your hips, until they find the hem of your mid-thigh, black pencil skirt. He hooks his index finger and thumb around the hem, and just as slowly, pulls the skirt up, making sure to lightly drag the rest of his fingers up against your curves. You shiver against his lips with desire, wishing you hadn’t opted for the sheer tights underneath. As if reading your mind, Steve hooks his hands around the top of your tights to pull down, breaking off the kiss to take himself down with the fabric. Your eyes follow him as he lowers. Your hips erupt out of their control-top encasing, the newfound freedom of your lower half instantly making you wet. Steve is kneeling in front of you now, letting the fabric bunch at your feet. You realize he took your panties with the tights, too, making you wetter with anticipation. 

Steve stares up at you from where he’s kneeling. His cerulean eyes darken, desire finding its way in. “You’re so beautiful,” he huffs, clearly getting aroused by the sight of your own arousal. He wraps his arms around your legs, finding your round bare bottom with his hands, and presses his face to your core. Steve wastes no time devouring you. You knock your head back, resting it on the wall as you cry out.

“Oooooh Steve!!” 

Your hands automatically rest on his broad shoulders, cradling his head, running your fingers through is already messy bedhead as he works you up, lapping at your folds and sucking on your clit, kneading your cheeks in tandem. He pauses briefly for a breath and to get a good look at how unraveled you’re becoming under his handiwork. “Oh god, I love the way you taste. And you’re so wet, too,” Steve admired. His boyish grin had since taken a wickedly lustful turn. He guides your legs a little wider, making you look down at him, and slips two fingers inside you. His pumps are slow and steady and he smiles wider at you before diving back face first into your mound, never breaking his gaze on you. 

You moan loudly, your head rolled back once again. You’re struggling to find the words in your pleasure. “Steve…The train…” You can’t help it. You’re panting and groaning and god he’s so good at this. Your legs tremble under his ministrations and you slump further into his grip, giving him a better angle to move in deeper. If not for him gripping your butt, pulling your core closer to his amazing mouth, you would have buckled and collapsed from the intensity of it all by now. 

Steve pulls away and stands up, drawing you in at the waist with his muscular arms. He kisses you deeply again. He knows how much you like the tang of your own juices on his lips. He likes it too. The spiked kiss alone is almost enough to send you over the edge, and Steve knows this, so he steps away, breaking from your lips, leaving you bare and bewildered for a couple seconds.

“Steve…I…I…” you stammer.

You’re intoxicated from all the sudden ecstasy. You can’t think straight. Your mind is spinning and so is the world around you. Every inch of you is electrified. You barely notice the captain guiding you to the edge of the sofa. He rests your body against the armrest and cradles you below the waist while leaning you back. Your legs open wide and hook around him. Steve looks down towards his sweatpants, making you follow his gaze. He only has to tug down a little bit to free himself—he wears his sweats low on purpose for easy access. You both know it, and you both love it. His large erect cock springs up before he takes hold of himself and lines up against your entrance. You’re more than wet enough, dripping and glistening all over, so he instantly drives his stiffened cock into you without warning, his thrusts immediately rough, fast, and unrelenting. 

You let out a sharp cry when you’re suddenly impaled, stretched, and stuffed full with Steve’s large and girthy cock. You’re reduced to incoherent guttural noises now. Steve is right there grunting, huffing, and growling with you. The room fills with skin on skin smacking and the sweet tangy scent of heated bodies fucking. You’re not thinking at all about your meetings, or the presentation, or the long hours at work today, or even being late. Your mind blanks out while Steve ravages your body, thrusting deep and hard into you, threatening to break you apart each time he pulls back to ram into you again. You use his broad shoulders to cling onto dear life. He watches you lose yourself in the pleasure. He always loves watching you lose yourself to him. Your head thrown back. Your tits bouncing whichever way they can. His name injected into the string of curses tumbling out of your mouth. 

The sinking feeling starts to settle in. You’re so close. You know you won’t last much longer. A few more thrusts and you will be pushed over the edge.

Steve could feel your impending orgasm coming. Your voice pitched higher. Your walls are tightening around his cock. The sweat forming on your brow and your shoulders. Your fierce grip on his broad shoulders getting tighter and tighter. You’re beginning to drool out the side of your open hanging mouth. Your pleasure is shameless, wanton, and primal, and he loves it. He loves that he can take you there and shush your stressed out mind. 

Steve allows himself to become more wild and erratic. He uses his now death grip on you to pull you in further. Anything to help him thrust deeper into your heated tight core. The skin-on-skin smacking gets louder. It’s the final stretch. You’re going to cum any moment now. You take in a sharp breath, the breath before your entire body clamps down on itself, and suddenly Steve pulls out of you and completely stops. 

Your mind catches on the sudden emptiness and is sent reeling before you realize what happened. Steve brought you to the edge, but he won’t send you over. Not yet. Not with a train to catch and a whole day of work ahead of you. He slips his sweatpants back on, ignoring the fact that his cock is slicked up with your juices and his precum, and that he too is glistening all over with sweat. You’re too lost in your build up to move, so he brings over your panties and tights and helps you get back into them. Steve works himself up your body trying to straighten out the mess he created before, steadying his breathing along the way. He pulls your skirt down where it’s supposed to rest and tries his best to smooth out any wrinkles that might have formed when he was suddenly fucking you. Up to your dress shirt, he corrects the tuck so the buttons face forward and fixes up your collar. He goes after your hair next, trying his best to calm it down to a more presentable look. Hints of your previous actions still lingered in its appearance, though. Oh well.

He gathers all your belongings, and before you know it you are at the door with your coat, shoes, and bags, staring up at him. Sweet blue eyes look down at you. The youthful smile is loving and innocent again. “Have a great day,” he wishes you. 

And then he gets dangerously close one last time. You feel the heat still radiating from his powerful, glistening body. Up against the shell of your ear comes the hot whisper of his last message.

“I’ll finish you off tonight, doll. Don’t be late.” 

The super soldier pulls forward to give you one last messy, tongue filled, searing spiked kiss. It’s the final touch to his spell on you, ensuring you will stay engulfed in your scorching fiery desire all day long until he gives you the release you’re looking for. 

Steve kindly opens the door for you and guides you out on your way.

\-----

The rest of your day’s worries were meaningless as you teetered on the edge, the fire of your unmet release the driving force of all of your actions at work. You miraculously made it to work on time. Each meeting you had ended in success. Your presentation was the most captivating of all the quarterly presentations in the past year. Your colleagues went out of their way to let you know, even Stacey who is normally the most vicious towards you. 

There was just something about you your colleagues and clients couldn’t put their finger on. You glowed. You were energetic and fully in control. The way you moved to and fro, the subtlety affectious gestures, the light sashay in your hips. Like the vivid colors of life itself were pouring out of you, pumping the grey halls and grey work conversations full of a new vitality none of them have felt in a long time. Everyone was feeling more energized by your presence. Your body was feeding off of that fire, singing out in ecstasy, calling out for more, and everyone subconsciously heard and latched onto it. 

\-----

You come home late as usual. You were planning on getting home at 8pm. You returned at 8:37. You let the apartment door click shut quietly behind you before locking it. You note the soft glow coming from the TV in your bedroom, the only source of light in your otherwise dark home. It’s the telltale sign that Steve is home, too. You discard your bags, then your coat and shoes, and come to the bedroom where you know your boyfriend has been waiting, ready to finish the job like he promised. 

Steve is sitting up in your shared bed wearing the same sweatpants as before, pushed just low enough to keep his cock freed. He stares you down knowingly. He’s already stroking himself slowly, making a show of it for you, getting ready for you. You dutifully take off your clothes, including your completely soaked panties and tights, the sweet freedom from the long day finally behind you. Naked, you approach the side of the bed and tug his sweats. Steve lifts his hips to give way and the sweats are finally gone. There’s nothing left between the two of you anymore. He holds his cock up while you climb over him, letting your entrance hover just above while you prop your knees on the outside of his sides and your hands on his broad shoulders. You’ve been wet for him all day. You’re sure you’re dripping on him now. You stare down at his face, the fire deep inside you blowing up again when that impish grin of his returns. 

“You’re late,” he states as a matter of fact. 

You drop your full weight onto his cock, and this time he finishes you off like he promised.


End file.
